


Not All Who Wander Are Lost

by havewemetbefore



Series: The Art of Death and Memory [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 13:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6806950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havewemetbefore/pseuds/havewemetbefore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At some point in Lydia's high school career, she splintered. Shattered herself into pieces, and resigned herself not to be fixed. Which might be why she finds herself alone and drunk on Graduation day.</p><p>One shot. Some Stiles/Lydia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not All Who Wander Are Lost

Someone had decided the graduation party (the real one, not the one with parents and expectations and oh where are you going to college) would be in an orchard. Lydia doesn’t know who although it occurs to her not so long ago, (a lifetime ago) she would’ve chosen the location. The air’s thick with laughter and apple. The flickering firelight and excitement should be catching, Lydia thinks. So, why does she find herself here, leaning a little too heavily on a tree and crying tears she pretends not to see.

 

She thinks, this is what I’ve made of myself. Dizzy with nostalgia and exhaustion and someone’s parent’s champagne, wandering a mostly empty orchard (although she supposes it's not wandering, when she has a preconceived destination). She can feel the dirt collecting on the soles of her feet, her trademark high heels dangling limp from one hand. She recalls earlier in the night, giddy off victory, life and the realization they survived. She recalls Stiles smiling at her, full and wide and bright (not nearly as bright as it used to be). She recalls sneaking off into the thicket of trees with him, a bottle swinging from one hand, the other palm folded into his. 

 

She recalls bright lights flashing all around, Stiles spinning her in a haphazard sort of dance, and his mouth against her mouth, his teeth against her teeth (in the way she’d always wanted them to be). She recalls collapsing into him, her whole body crumpling with the burden of being fine for her mother, for her valedictorian speech, and for everybody else who had heard about Eichen and thought their small minded selves could understand.

 

She recalls her legs being swept up, Stiles's body sliding down the tree, his arms settling her in his lap. Remaining there until the tears dried onto her cheeks, no words spoken between the two. And, she recalls lifting herself off his lap, taking step after step away until even their hands broke away (his remaining there for more seconds than she’d care to think about). 

 

And, she thinks, all roads must lead here. Standing by her best friend’s grave, with a bottle of champagne, a dress covered in dirt, and the knowledge that Allison should have been here.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this really late at night, so please comment and give me feedback. Also, if you actually like this (I mean you didn't but if you did) comment and I'll write one for like Stiles and Scott and you know etc. Yeah, that's basically it. If you hate it, feel free to tell me. Same goes for loving it.


End file.
